


Couples' Exclusive

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pretend Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for October's Theme of the Month: Pretend Relationship</p><p>The prompt: Arthur and Merlin have been best friends for practically forever, to the point where a lot of people automatically assume they're a couple.<br/>But they're not, and can't seem to grasp why people think they're in a relationship. Other friends have matching sweaters and socks, don't they?<br/>Then Merlin wins a chance for a free skiing vacation for two, and immediately invites Arthur along. The only problem? Merlin missed the fine line that it's a couples exclusive resort.<br/>Thanks to snuggling in a cabin in front of a fire as a snowstorm rages outside, it might be time that they admit that what they share is more than just friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couples' Exclusive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/gifts).



Merlin waits for Arthur to park the car, bouncing a little on the pavement to keep warm. They’re late to meet their friends for a pint, but only because Arthur couldn’t finish his article for the museum website. Although Merlin nagged him a bit, he didn’t say much—he’s proud of Arthur’s job as museum curator, and he tries to let him know that. Lord knows Arthur’s father never will.

When Arthur joins him, cheeks rosy from the cold air, Merlin shakes his head. “You should wear a scarf.”

Arthur only laughs, flicking the ends of Merlin’s blue scarf in his face and opening the pub door for him to enter.

They order at the bar, Merlin getting a draft, and Arthur a more expensive imported beer because old habits die hard.

At a table in the corner, their friends wave them over.

“Isn’t that Arthur’s jumper?” Leon asks Merlin when Merlin and Arthur take their seats side-by-side.

Merlin looks down at the navy cardigan in question. “Is it? I don’t know...”

Gwen laughs. “You’ve been wearing each other’s clothes for so long, you don’t even remember who owns what.”

Arthur takes a long pull from his bottle of Corona before setting it down and shaking his head.

“Ridiculous. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of those scarves, and Merlin absolutely swims in my trousers.”

“He’s been in your trousers, then?” Gwaine asks, eyebrow cocked, and Gwen elbows him in the ribs, laughing.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I thought that round of Truth or Dare our last year of uni cleared that up. Merlin and I are not a couple.”

“Lot of water’s gone under the bridge since then,” Gwaine says, drinking his beer and winking lasciviously. “You two have been living together for years.”

“So?” Merlin asks, a little surprised, but not awfully so. Gwaine likes to see sex in most situations.

“You’re practically in one another’s pockets,” Gwaine says. “You finish each other’s sentences. I bet you know what knickers Arthur has on right now.”

Merlin frowns, because he does. Is that weird?

Thankfully, Lance joins them, and Arthur stands so Lance can slide in next to Gwen, who raises her face for his kiss.

“I put everybody’s food order in.” Lance looks around the table. "What are we talking about?" he asks, entwining his fingers with Gwen's.

“Whether or not Arthur and Merlin are a couple,” Sophia answers, laying her head on Leon’s shoulder and popping a crisp into her mouth. Leon lazily wraps an arm around her.

Lance looks from one friend to the other, eyes guarded. “I don’t see how that’s any of our business.”

“I don’t believe it!” Arthur slaps the table and looks incredulously at Merlin, who grins and shrugs, opening his packet of peanuts. “You think it, too, don’t you, Lance?”

Lance wets his lips, uncomfortable. “It’s no big deal, Arthur. What you and Merlin do in the privacy of your own home…”

Arthur’s smile grows wider and more disbelieving. “What the fuck? Gwen? Is that what _you_ think? That Merlin and I are some kind of _secret item_?”

Gwen opens her mouth and stops, unsure. Arthur looks to Leon, who gives a shrug.

“It’s always been a possibility. You’re both gay, after all. Unattached. Living together.”

“And best mates since we were in nappies,” Merlin puts in, chewing on a mouthful of peanuts. “It’s not as though I want to kiss that mouth after having seen it eat a cockroach.”

“It was a cricket, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur corrects over the general gagging noises of their friends. “And I was three. Likewise, I’m not about to want to crawl into bed with someone who drools on his pillow and wears footie pyjamas.”

Merlin colours. “I have bad circulation. And I’d watch it if I were you! I might change my mind about taking you on my free skiing trip.” Merlin’s only teasing, of course. There’s no question that he’d take anyone else. A whole week with someone who isn’t Arthur? A whole week _without_ Arthur? When he’d won the trip, it had never occurred to Merlin to ask anyone else. But Arthur doesn’t have to know that.

Arthur pushes the back of Merlin’s head down in a teasing gesture. “Who else would you take?”

“Well,” Merlin says, moving away and finger-combing his dark hair back into place. “I might’ve taken that fit bloke who was chatting me up at the park last Saturday, if you hadn’t frightened him off.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Arthur scoffs. “Besides, after giving my sister the other two tickets, mightn’t that have been a little awkward?”

“How’d Arthur frighten him off?” Gwen asks, interested.

“He just kept hovering about. Totally cockblocked me.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you,” Arthur mutters, taking Merlin’s other packet of peanuts and opening them for him. He eats one before handing them back. Merlin’s heart warms at the words, in spite of the fact that, at this rate, he’ll die a lonely old man.

“Here comes our food,” Lance announces.

Merlin looks over his shoulder and moves aside a little as the barmaid sets down a tray, removing a plate of nachos covered with cheese and jalapeno peppers. He immediately begins picking off the peppers from Arthur’s side of the plate.

“What?” he glances up at his friends, who watch him intently. “Arthur doesn’t like jalapenos.” It isn’t only that; if Arthur gets even a piece of one of the peppers in his mouth, he’ll be up all night with a stomach ache. But Arthur’s too proud to comb through the nachos thoroughly in front of their friends.

The barmaid hands out the rest of the food while Gwaine does his best to chat her up. When that doesn’t work, he launches into a story about how he almost got a date with an actress the night before. Arthur listens with half an ear for a few seconds before his mind wanders to preparations for the ski trip the next day.

“Did you pack my socks?” Arthur asks Merlin in an undertone as Gwaine continues talking and gesticulating. Merlin did the wash, but he’s likely to forget Arthur’s socks.

“Of course,” Merlin replies, sucking the cheese off his fingers. “It’s fucking freezing where we’re going; you have to have socks.”

“Just checking,” Arthur replies. Of course, Merlin would let Arthur wear his own socks before letting Arthur’s feet freeze. But Arthur would prefer that they both have socks; he doesn’t want Merlin’s feet to freeze either.

“Did you fill the car up with petrol?” Merlin asks Arthur after a moment.

Arthur nods. “And checked the oil.” He passes Merlin a tortilla with a particularly fat glob of cheese on it, knowing Merlin loves those the best. Merlin beams at him, opening his mouth for Arthur to pop it in.

“Brilliant,” Merlin grins after he’s chewed and swallowed his bite. “This is going to be amazing. I am going to show you what a better skier I am than you.”

“No one’s a better skier than I am, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur snorts, highly amused that Merlin would even try that boast, considering how uncoordinated he is. He reaches over and wipes cheese off Merlin’s mouth with his napkin. He’s such a child.

“That’s what you’ve always said, but you haven’t seen me ski since we were thirteen.” Merlin’s eyes are coy.

“And you toppled down the beginners slope and broke your leg,” Arthur reminds him, holding back a shudder at the memory and turning back to his nachos.

“There was a rock under the snow,” Merlin claims. “or I so would have beaten you that day.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous, Merlin, you never would have beaten me.”

“And I’m an even better skier now,” Merlin states emphatically. Arthur can’t help but smile.

“No, you are not,” Arthur snorts. “Three ski trips with your Uncle Gaius does not a ski pro make.”

“Arthur, I am going to smear your arse all over the slopes,” Merlin’s grin is smug. How many types of grin does Merlin have? Arthur thinks he could name a dozen.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Arthur replies, wiping cheese off his fingers with a napkin. Merlin leans over and thumbs a bit of it from the corner of Arthur’s mouth and sucks it off. Arthur suddenly realizes where they are and that the table’s gone very quiet. He looks around at the dumbfounded faces of their friends.

“What are you all looking at?” he asks irritably.

The trance breaks, and the table once again becomes animated.

As they all leave the pub around midnight, Gwaine claps Arthur on the back. “Hope I didn’t piss you off earlier, mate.” At Arthur’s look of confusion, he adds, “with the talk about you and Merlin being a couple. It’s just…the two of you really know one another. You look like you belong together. You’d make the perfect pair… too bad you’re not in love." Gwaine hesitates. "You’re not in love, are you, Arthur?”

Arthur stares into Gwaine’s brown eyes for a few long moments before laughing softly. “You’ve had too much to drink, mate. Better take a taxi.”

000

The car trip to the ski resort is filled with Merlin’s excited chatter, which Arthur blocks out, not taking in the words, but only the lull of Merlin’s familiar voice, as Arthur’s been accustomed to doing for as long as he can remember. Merlin talks when he’s excited; he talks when he’s nervous; he talks when he’s scared; he talks when he’s bored.

Arthur’s way is to remain quiet. Rein it in. Lock it up. And thankfully, Merlin understands Arthur’s way.

Sometimes Arthur thinks he’d go crazy if it weren’t for Merlin’s talking taking his mind off things; such as when Arthur’s sister, Morgana, got into a car accident and they didn’t know if she’d pull through the night. Merlin’s incessant talking had been the only thing that had held Arthur together during those long hours. That, and Merlin’s hand furiously holding Arthur’s and refusing to let go. Arthur had been all alone, his father refusing to sit with him or allow him to see Morgana after she’d regained consciousness. Of course, his friends had come to the hospital, but Arthur doesn’t remember speaking to any of them. Merlin had taken care of that for him.

A year before that, while they were still in uni and sharing a three room flat, Arthur’s father learned that Arthur had defied him by majoring in classical studies rather than business administration. Uther immediately disinherited him. Merlin paid Arthur’s rent for a full two months during that time until Arthur found a job, sometimes moonlighting in order to make ends meet. Merlin’s chatter kept Arthur from going off the deep end with his morose thoughts of not being good enough to carry the name Pendragon.

Later, Arthur remembers lying awake nights wondering how anyone could give a fig about him enough to go to the trouble that Merlin did for him.

Gwaine’s words at the pub hadn’t made Arthur angry, but they’d been ludicrous. Merlin isn’t Arthur’s boyfriend--Merlin’s been in Arthur’s life since before he can remember, and he’s the bright, shining center of it, there’s no doubt. There’s never been a time when there wasn’t Merlin there, smiling his big goofy smile, lighting up the room. But there’s no defining word for Merlin. He’s Arthur’s best mate, but so much more than that.

And Arthur knows he’s fortunate to have Merlin, and that Merlin chose to take him along on this trip. Not that Arthur really thinks Merlin would have asked a date along for a week away—that simply isn’t Merlin’s style. Even if Arthur had let that bloke near Merlin, Merlin wouldn’t have asked him instead of Arthur. That was a bluff, and Arthur knows it. But Arthur knows he’s fortunate to have Merlin as a friend at all, because, well. Arthur isn’t the easiest person to get along with.

Arthur thinks back to that day in the park and the Frisbee playing plonker who’d so obviously sent his Frisbee spinning Merlin’s way. Arthur wasn’t about to let that clod weasel his way into Merlin’s life, whether Merlin was attracted to the bloke or not. Although the man had been good-looking enough on the surface, Arthur had seen the dirt under his fingernails—a manual worker for certain. Merlin deserves better than that.

Arthur wants Merlin to be able to concentrate on his art, not have to work every day for the rest of his life while his paintings sit untouched, trying to make ends meet for some partner who’s a construction worker or mechanic. Merlin’s a talented artist, no matter what Arthur tells him out loud. He glances over at Merlin chattering away in the passenger seat of Arthur’s car, oblivious to the fact that Arthur hasn’t registered a thing he’s said since the moment they left the petrol station and Merlin began talking about the variety of candy they sold there, along with the fact that his Uncle Gaius owns a shot glass collection of all things and maybe Merlin should look at the souvenir shops for one to add to it.

Suddenly, a strange thought occurs to Arthur. He frowns.

Merlin immediately picks up on it and stops talking.

“What?” he asks.

Arthur glances his way before training his eyes on the traffic again. “Camelot is about half an hour ahead, I think,” Arthur tells him.

“That wasn’t what that frown was for,” Merlin accuses. “What were you just thinking? I know you weren’t listening to a word I was saying.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. He sighs. “Just…I suddenly wondered what will happen to me when you meet the perfect man and partner up.”

The car is quiet for long moments. So quiet, that Arthur squirms a bit in his seat and fights the urge to fill the silence with inane chatter of his own, and Arthur’s never done inane chatter in his life. He wants to take back what he said and substitute it with something else, but the words are out there hanging. He risks a glance Merlin’s way.

Merlin’s thinking, Arthur can tell.

Finally, Arthur says, “I would move out, of course. I don’t know why I said that. I would have my own place and everything. And continue my work at the museum… of course you can’t answer that question, because it’s so obvious. I don’t even know what I meant by it. Oh, look, is that a deer?”

It would be highly unlikely to see a deer at this time of day, but Arthur couldn’t think of anything else. He’s breathing a little erratically, and sweat’s broken out on his forehead. What he really wants to do is pull the car over and get out. Take in some fresh air.

“I think that’s our exit,” Merlin says after a moment, and Arthur breathes out in relief, flicking on his turn signal so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t break off.

The ski resort is nice. Not as nice as Arthur’s family is used to, but Arthur’s been away from that opulence long enough not to mind anymore. He wonders if Morgana will mind, and what she thought when Merlin offered her the tickets. Morgana, who could once afford to go to the finest ski slopes in the world, but who has now been disinherited just like Arthur, but for different reasons.

“Morgana and Vivian are already here,” Merlin tells Arthur after he checks them in.

Arthur takes his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, she says they’re in their room.” He texts Morgana that they’re there, and they follow the bellhop to the elevators.

When they reach their suite, which connects to both their room and Morgana and Vivian’s, the bellhop unloads their bags and Arthur tips him. Merlin begins wandering the room, and seconds later, Morgana’s door opens.

“Arthur, Merlin! There you are. Was the traffic terrible?”

Morgana’s looking rested and relaxed in black leggings and an oversized shirt, sans makeup and her dark hair swept into a ponytail. Arthur dutifully hugs her, and then suffers through an embrace from Vivian, whom he tolerates for Morgana’s sake because, for some reason, his sister loves her.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Arthur tells her, “but I don’t drive like a demon out of hell like you do.”

“Wait a minute,” Merlin says, coming out of the adjoining bedroom. “They’ve only given us one bed.”

Morgana looks at Vivian. “We were kind of wondering about that,” Morgana says.

“About what?” Arthur asks. “Perhaps there’s a rollaway.”

“Didn’t you read the fine print on this prize?” Morgana asks Merlin, who shakes his head.

“I only asked if I’d be required to pay anything,” Merlin answers. “And I was told no. That I won everything with my online entry. Please don’t tell me they lied!” Merlin claps his hands to his head, and Arthur automatically takes a step toward him.

“No, no. We won’t owe anything,” Morgana soothes.

“It’s a couples’ getaway,” Vivian tells them. “Couples _only_. As in, you can’t even accept the prize if you aren’t here as a couple. That’s why Morgana and I were a bit confused when we got here---that you brought Arthur.”

Morgana smiles. “We were kind of hoping something new might be going on between the two of you.”

Arthur sighs. “Not you, too.” He looks at Merlin, who he finds has gone white.

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin’s big, blue doe eyes slay Arthur. He immediately puts on a smile.

“What for? This is nothing, Merlin. We’ve slept in the same bed before, and everyone thinks we’re a couple anyway, so what’s the big deal? It’s not as if they'll come to check that we’re having sex…”

Merlin looks relieved, his mouth turning up at the corners, and Arthur can see Morgana’s _I’m proud of you_ smile behind Merlin’s back.

“Let’s unpack and eat,” Arthur turns abruptly toward the bedroom. “I’m starved!” Arthur hesitates only a fraction when he sees that the bed’s a queen and not a king, and there are roses in the room as well as a fireplace and champagne glasses, and _mirrors everywhere_... Merlin follows.

“Are you sure this doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” he asks, looking for all the world like a child whose about to be scolded. Arthur puts his hands on Merlin’s shoulders.

“After the year I’ve had, this vacation is a god-send, Merlin,” he tells him quietly, letting the sincerity ring out in his voice. “You just don’t know how much I appreciate it. I don’t care what we have to do to get it…I’m happy to be here.” He gives Merlin his best smile. “We’re going to have a great time.”

Merlin’s answering grin is all Arthur needs, and Arthur finds himself running his thumb over Merlin’s neck and staring into the blue depths of his eyes before he even realizes he’s doing it. He snaps to attention.

“Let’s head to the dining room for lunch, shall we?” he suggests, moving away.

They find Morgana and Vivian waiting for them in the en suite, sprinkling little kisses on one another’s faces while cuddling on the loveseat.

“Come on, lovebirds, let’s go,” Arthur tells them, breezing past without waiting.

“Be sure to act like you’re a couple,” Morgana tells Arthur when she catches up. “It’s a couples’ exclusive place…I’m not kidding. Love is in the air.” She and Vivian giggle, and Arthur and Merlin roll their eyes at one another. Arthur offers his hand to Merlin, who gamely takes it, giving it a squeeze. Morgana and Vivian find this even funnier, and can’t stop laughing all the way to the dining room.

Lunch is a buffet, and Merlin is happy with the food and service. He finally finds himself relaxing, after worrying about the predicament he’s found himself in. He should have known something like this would happen; he’s always skipping over the fine print of things, his mind perpetually on his art or something else. Arthur’s a good friend to be willing to overlook this, but maybe it won’t be too bad. It isn’t difficult acting like a couple; they’ve known one another so long.

All around them, people are snuggled up, kissing occasionally, and sharing food. Arthur’s moved his chair closer to Merlin's than normal, but other than that, they aren’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Arthur eats food off Merlin’s plate, and Merlin gives Arthur his Brussels sprouts, which he got off the buffet just for him, realizing Arthur hadn’t seen them on his trip through.

Merlin has just let down his guard when a man approaches their table, introducing himself as the manager.

“Merlin Emrys?”

“Yes,” Merlin stands and shakes hands with the man, who is short in stature and has a large, round bald spot on top of his head.

“You won the contest online,” the manager states, and Merlin nods, introducing his friends.

The manager smiles, welcoming them all to the resort and filling them in on the amenities. “We pride ourselves as being one of the finest couples’ resorts in the region, specializing in romance.”

“We hope to do a bit of skiing,” Merlin tells him, and Arthur chuckles as though Merlin’s trying to be funny, and presses a kiss to Merlin’s cheek.

“I’d advise you to do that today and tomorrow, as we may have quite a bit of snow after that, and you just never know how the slopes will be,” the man tells them. “By the way, we’d like to take some pictures of you tonight at dinner and after, for our promotion for the next contest.”

“Certainly,” Merlin answers, looking to Arthur, who smiles pleasantly and puts his arm around the back of Merlin’s chair. Merlin leans into him a little.

“You know,” the manager continues, “a romantic dinner for two, then snuggling by the fire afterward.”

Merlin somehow manages to continue smiling, avoiding looking at Morgana and Vivian’s faces across the table.

When the man leaves, Morgana snorts through her nose.

“Lovely,” Arthur says, taking a drink of his water.

“Oh, my God, they’re going to ask you to kiss!” Morgana giggles.

Arthur raises a brow. “So? We are _gay_ , Morgana.”

Merlin’s heart’s fluttering like he’s never known it to before around Arthur, the thought of kissing him like that doing weird things to him. He’s seen Arthur kiss other men, but he’s never thought of Arthur kissing _him_! Well, not seriously. Just the peck on the cheek had been oddly thrilling.

“Do you really think we can pull it off?” he whispers.

“Of course,” Arthur tells him. “Stop worrying, will you?”

But Merlin can’t stop worrying, and after lunch, when Morgana and Vivian head off for their complementary massages, Arthur pulls Merlin to the side.

“What is the matter with you? You look like someone slapped your nanna.”

Merlin swallows. “Arthur, I’m afraid to kiss you! I’ll botch it up. I’ll laugh or pull away or something, and they’ll throw us out of here!”

Arthur smiles his self-entitled, self-confident, self-satisfied smile. “That’s ridiculous, Merlin.”

Merlin feels the heat rising in his face at Arthur’s cavalier attitude.

“What do you know? We’ve never kissed. Fuck, Arthur, you think you know everything, don’t you? You’re such a patronizing prat, sometimes, I swear…” and suddenly, Arthur’s cradling Merlin’s face, his lips pressed against his, ever so lightly. Merlin shuts up, the feel of Arthur’s skin against his singularly pleasurable. Another brush of Arthur’s lips, and the slight wetness of the tip of Arthur’s tongue…

Open air again. Merlin lifts his eyes, swaying just a little.

“There, now. You didn’t laugh or pull away. So stop worrying.” Arthur turns and strides down the hall, leaving Merlin confused and weak-kneed. _What the fuck?_

000

Arthur sits in the bathroom, staring at the heart-shaped, scarlet red bathtub, his boner in his hand.

Why in the hell did kissing Merlin of all people, give him a boner? He pulls at it a little angrily, remembering Merlin’s pillow-plump lips against his. He’d only wanted to reassure Merlin that everything would be fine…that kissing each other wouldn’t be a problem.

It hadn’t been a problem, but _this_ was. He looks down at his cock jutting stiffly from between his legs, harder than it’s been in a long time. Arthur can hear Merlin moving around in the bedroom, changing clothes, probably. Undressing.

Arthur thinks about Merlin in the nude, something he’s seen plenty of times. Long limbs…pert arse. A sprinkling of dark hair on a broad, pale chest. Cock Arthur’s only seen stiff on a few occasions, but enough to know Arthur really fancies the look of it. He closes his eyes, biting his lips.

He’s got some of that scented oil from the bath rack on his hand, a musk that fills the room with its fragrance as Arthur pumps to the image of Merlin’s stiff cock the way it looked at the end of that busy day at the museum when Arthur walked in on Merlin and Owain what’s-his-name mid-fondle on the couch--Merlin’s paint-splattered jeans opened and pulled to his thighs, long, slim dick curving upward with a little bead of pre-cum at the tip…

Arthur lets out a noise as his balls tighten and he ejaculates all over his hand, head thrown back.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice from outside the door startles him. “Are you okay? Did the sprouts hurt your stomach?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur clears his throat and flushes the toilet, grabbing some tissues.

000

They ski all afternoon, and Merlin isn’t half-bad, although Arthur doesn’t lose the chance to tell him he’s nowhere close to Arthur’s caliber on the slopes. Vivian falls on her butt so many times, she finally quits and heads back for hot chocolate, Morgana in tow.

By the time Arthur and Merlin return to the chalet, they are exhausted and wet, in spite of their warm ski attire.

Once changed into jumpers and warm trousers, heavy socks and lounge shoes, they head for the en suite, Arthur tapping lightly on Morgana’s door. He’s met with a definite moan.

“God, what are you two doing? Don’t answer that! We’re heading down for dinner. Meet us at your leisure.” He turns to Merlin.

“What do you suppose lesbians get up to?” Merlin asks in the hallway.

“I’m sure we don’t want to know,” Arthur tells him.

“Gwaine says they use a double-headed dildo,” Merlin says as he presses the button for the lift.

Arthur makes a face. “Ugh! This is my sister we’re talking about!”

“You can’t say you’re not curious,” Merlin accuses as they step on.

“My _sister_ , Merlin.”

Merlin shrugs.

“Perhaps they’ll let you watch,” Arthur suggests with a smirk.

“Ew! I don’t want to watch! I’m only curious as to how they get off, that’s all,” Merlin replies, affronted.

“You’re a pervert,” Arthur accuses.

“I am not! If anyone’s a pervert, it’s you,” Merlin tells him. “You’re the one who used to read her diary.”

“You read it, too!” Arthur points a finger at him. Merlin makes to bite it, and Arthur snatches it back.

Merlin watches Arthur being chatted up by the waiter at the buffet. Arthur’s so good-looking, he’s always getting hit on. Merlin’s used to it.

Merlin knows everything there is to know about Arthur and what Arthur likes. In sixth form, Arthur dated jocks. In uni, he dated intellectual types.

Now, Arthur only ever brings home twinks, usually young men who work at the museum short-term, because Arthur doesn’t do relationships anymore. Arthur’s a top, and he won’t give up top status to anybody; Merlin’s heard, through the thin walls of their bedrooms, some blokes try to persuade him, but Arthur is adamant about it. Merlin is normally a top, also, but not as picky about it and willing to give in if it’s a problem.

Arthur approaches sex as he approaches business, usually trying to get a feel for the likes and dislikes of his sexual partner during the kissing and fumbling about stage. “Dirty talk?” he’ll ask. If the date says yes, Arthur begins a litany of it, if the answer’s no, Arthur will move on to something else. Some conquests, as far as Merlin can tell, Arthur doesn’t even bother to kiss.

Merlin usually tries not to be present when Arthur brings someone home, though, because it’s uncomfortable. Arthur’s his best mate, and listening to him fucking someone is weird, to say the least. But occasionally it happens, and Merlin’s not about to run out of the flat because of it. He honestly wants Arthur to have someone over occasionally…he worries about him. He works long hours and needs stress relief. Merlin sometimes puts his ear buds in and listens to music so as to block out the noise, but a time or two, he’s listened out of curiosity, wondering what type of lover Arthur is.

The answer to that is a bossy one. The commands Arthur makes during sex and the tone he makes them in should be outlawed, in Merlin’s opinion. More than once, Merlin’s found himself wanking in his bed, unable to help himself. Afterward, he felt like a real creep. But other than the occasional filthy talk and telling his partner for the evening what to do, Arthur is virtually silent in bed, all the moaning and crying out coming from the other man.

“Get his number?” Merlin inquires when Arthur returns to the table with a plate of roast beef and potatoes.

“Whose?” Arthur asks, blond fringe falling into his eyes.

“The guy serving the roast beef,” Merlin answers. “It’s obvious he fancies you.”

“Oh, him. No.” Arthur scoots his chair closer to Merlin’s and gives him some of his beef. “Manager’s looking,” Arthur murmurs before leaning in and placing a careful kiss just below Merlin’s jaw. There seems to be no reason for Merlin’s heart to stutter in his chest like it does at that moment. Merlin can feel Arthur’s warm breath on his skin. He turns his head just a little, so close to Arthur that their noses touch. Arthur’s eye lashes are long and blond. Why has Merlin never noticed before?

Time suspends itself as they hover so close together, breathing one another’s air. After knowing Arthur for so long, learning this aspect of him is surreal.

“Would you…” Merlin’s lips graze Arthur’s cheek as he speaks, “like some of my salad?”

Arthur blinks, the spell broken. He dips his eyes to Merlin’s plate, hair brushing Merlin’s face. “Um, sure. Yeah. Love some.”

Merlin dishes it out, and they begin to eat. Presently, Morgana and Vivian join them, looking well-fucked-out.

“Is that a love bite on your neck?” Arthur asks his sister. “Morgana, how gauche.”

“You’re only jealous,” Morgana tells him, sticking her tongue out for good measure before turning to Merlin.

“Merlin, we’re having a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting us.”

Vivian nods her agreement. “Yes, thank you, Merlin. Our room is lovely.”

Mid-way through the meal, a photographer comes over and takes a few pictures. Merlin leans into Arthur, holding his wine glass and smiling. When asked for a more romantic shot, they look into one another’s eyes, and although Merlin’s prepared to burst into nervous laughter, particularly with Morgana and Vivian present, he finds himself suddenly sober.

Afterward, there are awkward glances all around, and then the photographer suggests Arthur and Merlin have their dessert in the great room with the fireplaces. He snaps a couple of shots of Morgana and Vivian and then the group of four before Arthur and Merlin follow him into the next room.

With high, dark-beamed ceilings and large windows showing off snowy mountains, the great room is both enormous and oddly cozy at the same time. The photographer asks them to slip off their shoes and lie down on one of the bear skin rugs before the large fireplace in the center of the room. He hands them some champagne from a passing waiter and takes a few shots of them sipping it.

“Now a kiss, if you please, and we’ll be finished.”

Merlin looks up at Arthur through his lashes, suddenly shy and nervous. He leans in as Arthur does, though, and their lips meet, tantalizingly sweet.

When they part, Merlin isn’t certain how long the photographer’s been gone.

“Would you like dessert?” Arthur asks.

Merlin sucks on his bottom lip until he realizes that Arthur’s staring at it and lets it pop out from between his teeth. “No, no, I don’t think so. Do you?”

Arthur shakes his head.

“Fancy our complementary massage?” Merlin asks.

Arthur raises a brow. “Are you sore from skiing?”

“No, of course not,” Merlin denies, but he actually is. “I just thought it might be nice.”

Arthur shrugs, staring into the fire. “All right.”

They sit there another few minutes, enjoying the crackling and popping of the fire and the sight of snow falling outside the window before getting up and wandering upstairs to their room. Arthur makes the call to the front desk, asking for the masseuse.

Only it’s a masseur, and he brings a folding table, setting it up in the bedroom. Always a bit shy, Merlin tells Arthur to go first, lying down on the bed and flipping through television channels while Arthur strips off his clothes and lies down on the table, easy as you please.

The masseur, a large, hulking man, covers Arthur’s arse with a folded towel and begins the massage. Merlin watches for a while, listening to Arthur’s grunting, before falling asleep.

He awakens to Arthur shaking his shoulder. “Your turn,” he tells Merlin before flopping down on the bed.

Merlin yawns and undresses, climbing up on the table, careful to tuck his cock in comfortably. The massage feels deliciously good. Merlin can see Arthur’s eyes drooping, and soon soft snores issue from between his parted lips. The masseur chuckles.

“I really wiped him out,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Merlin replies. “I got my nap in, though, so I feel good.”

“My name is George,” he kneads at Merlin’s shoulders. “Do you have any places that need special attention?”

“My legs,” Merlin tells him. “I haven’t skied in a long time. I worked out muscles I forgot I had.”

George moves down to press and manipulate Merlin’s calves and then his thighs, and Merlin groans.

“God, that feels…spectacular.”

“You have a nice body,” George tells him, and Merlin opens his eyes.

“Um, thanks.” Is George flirting with him? Surely he knows Merlin is there with Arthur. Of course, Merlin isn’t actually there with Arthur, but it’s supposed to look like he is.

“You two make a beautiful couple,” George tells Merlin. So there; he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded.

“Do you ever go in for threesomes?” George’s fingers are a little too far up Merlin’s thighs now, and Merlin squirms, alarmed.

“I’m afraid we’re very exclusive, _George_ ,” Arthur’s voice, laced with steel, comes from the bed.

George stops massaging. “Okay, well, no harm in asking, is there?”

“You might find there’s quite a bit of harm in asking if you don’t get out right this minute,” Arthur orders, and Merlin quickly hops off the table so George can fold it up.

George and his things are out the door in short order.

“Of all the nerve!” Arthur rants. “I have a mind to complain to management. Did he touch you?”

“He was giving me a massage, Arthur, of course he touched me,” Merlin answers, wrapping the towel about his waist.

“You know what I mean,” Arthur accuses, eyes narrowing. “Did he touch you inappropriately?”

“No,” Merlin replies. “But I think he would have if you hadn’t awakened.”

Arthur’s mouth sets in a thin line, and he goes for the phone.

“No, Arthur, stop. Nothing happened, all right? We’re here to have fun, so let’s do it.”

Arthur stills. “Let’s do what?” he asks.

“Have fun, of course. It’s all lit up outside like a winter wonderland, so let’s go see it, shall we?” He heads for the closet and the clothes he hung there earlier, dropping his towel on the floor, determined to move past the unfortunate scene with George. “Throw me a pair of my pants, would you?”

Arthur does, and they land on Merlin’s head. “Thanks.” Merlin steps into them. When he turns around, it’s to find Arthur’s eyes pinned on him.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Arthur turns away. “Nothing. I’ll find a warm jumper.”

They walk about outside for a couple of hours, admiring ice sculptures and lighted displays. It’s late when they return to the room and clear by the sounds issuing from behind the closed bedroom door that Morgana and Vivian are at it again.

“My God, my ears!” Arthur says, covering them and heading for the other bedroom. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Merlin gets a water bottle out of the small refrigerator and leans against the couch, listening to the muffled sighs of pleasure. On the other side of the suite, a whirring noise tells him that Arthur’s using the whirlpool feature on the tub. He grabs another bottle and takes it to the bathroom.

“Feel good?” he asks Arthur, who’s sprawled in the heart-shaped tub, water swirling around him.

“Magnificent,” Arthur tells him. Merlin hands Arthur the bottle of water, and Arthur thanks him, taking a sip.

“I’m just going to wash off in the shower and put my pyjamas on,” Merlin tells Arthur, undressing and stepping into the small stall in the corner. He soaps and washes his hair, feeling tired and eager to get to bed.

When he gets out, Arthur’s still lying in the tub, head back and eyes closed. Merlin leaves him to it, grabbing some long johns out of a drawer and slipping them on before turning out all the lights except the small one between the bathroom and bedroom. He crawls between the soft, crisp sheets and sighs.

He’s aware of Arthur getting into bed sometime later, but Merlin’s too sleepy to move. Sometime in the night, Merlin curls up against Arthur, breathing in his scent at the back of his neck.

His dreams are pleasant.

000

Something is happening on this odd holiday. Arthur’s never had an interest in staring at Merlin’s naked body before, but now he can’t seem to get enough of it. First in front of the closet, where Arthur had the sudden urge to fall to his knees at the sight of Merlin’s pert little buttocks, and then in the bathroom when he could make out the lines of Merlin’s sleek form behind the frosted glass.

And where in the hell is the jealousy coming from? Arthur felt like he wanted to _kill_ that George person when he woke to find him with his hands up Merlin’s towel, suggesting that they have a threesome. Arthur’s always been a bit possessive about Merlin, but this is over the top. Arthur finds himself actually feeling as though they’re a couple, and George had no right… _no right_ to come onto Merlin like that.

And that’s another thing…the roast beef waiter. He really had been flirting shamelessly with Arthur, and Arthur could have easily arranged to meet him for a good fuck tonight with no one the wiser. But he hadn’t wanted to. What’s up with that?

Lying in bed beside Merlin in his soft, white long johns with his baby soft skin and hair, all Arthur finds himself wanting to do is take him in his arms. Merlin. His very best mate. It’s almost…incest, isn’t it?

Tossing and turning, Arthur can’t sleep, and the little mewling sounds Merlin’s making while dreaming don’t help any. They make Arthur wonder what Merlin sounds like when...He gets up and pads through the en suite, pausing at the door to Morgana’s room. He’d really like to talk to his sister about this, even though he knows she’ll take the piss. He knocks softly and waits. When there’s no answer, he tests the door. It’s unlocked. He pushes it open, easing his head around and blinking into the darkness.

The girls have the heater on, and it makes a grumbling noise in the room. A dim light from the bathroom shows Morgana and Vivian in the bed, cocooned around one another, the sheet barely covering them. It’s obvious that they’re both asleep, and Arthur’s not about to wake his sister up when she’s naked, so he backs out the door, shutting it quietly. He retraces his steps into the other room and crawls in next to Merlin, who immediately turns over and cuddles him. Arthur sighs, giving in and relaxing.

He knows what Morgana would say anyway. She’d ask him about his _feelings_ and tell him to _go with it_. But that’s the thing—Arthur doesn’t have feelings. At least, not about anyone except for Merlin. And those feelings aren’t to be soiled with things like sex and love. Hell, sex and/or love has ruined every relationship Arthur has ever had! Better to remain best mates, where you can forgive one another no matter what and don’t have to worry about the ins and outs of things. Arthur and Merlin have been doing best mates all their lives, and they do it well. Why mess with perfection?

But there’s nothing that says best mates can’t cuddle on a cold winter’s night, so Arthur rests his hand on Merlin’s bent knee, closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.

000

Why did Merlin ever tell Arthur that he would show him up skiing? Arthur is outdoing himself on the slopes, and Merlin is not in any condition to out-ski him. He finally gives up around two in the afternoon, heading inside for a nap. When he wakes up, Arthur is changing his clothes and smirking.

“All right already, so I’m not wiping your arse all over the slopes,” Merlin tells him.

" _Smearing_ , Merlin," Arthur corrects. "I believe the term was _smearing_. You were going to _smear_ my arse all over the slopes."

“Whatever, you insufferable prig. I give up.” Merlin swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Is it time for dinner yet?”

“Yes. Let’s go down, shall we?” Arthur suggests, looking particularly handsome, his face wind-burned and blue eyes bright.

“The roast beef waiter is watching you again,” Merlin tells Arthur when they’re getting their plates. “Only he’s on the salad bar tonight.”

“Merlin, I can’t have a thing with the waiter when we’re supposed to be together,” Arthur whispers. “Stop pointing him out to me. Or are you hoping to hole up with George somewhere?”

“George?” Merlin frowns, wondering who Arthur could mean until he suddenly remembers the masseur from the day before. “Bollocks, I don’t want him!”

Arthur grunts. “Could have fooled me. You were sporting a boner when you got up from his table.”

“Of course I was…he’d been massaging between my legs!” Merlin defends. “And what were you doing looking at my dick, anyway?”

“Shh! You’re too loud!” Arthur tells him, wrapping one arm around Merlin’s waist and whispering in his ear. _  
_

When they sit down at the table with Morgana and Vivian, Merlin looks over at Arthur’s plate. “Arthur, you are not going to eat all that meat. It’s terrible for your cholesterol!”

“What are you, my mother?” Arthur asks.

“I’m your sister, and I say he’s right,” Morgana tells him, taking some of his red meat off his plate.

“Are you sure you two aren’t married?” Vivian asks Merlin.

Merlin spots the manager and leans closer to Arthur. “We need a code word for the manager,” he mumbles.

“Shrimp salad, maybe?” Morgana suggests, holding up her fork full of the stuff. “He is on the short side.”

The man approaches their table. “And how are my contest winners? Are you being treated well?”

Arthur opens his mouth, and Merlin can just tell he’s about to say something about the masseur, so he interjects, “Perfectly, thank you.”

“Splendid! Tonight’s movie night in the Pine Room. Lots of blankets and popcorn. Movie begins at eight.” He glides away a bit like a steamliner, Merlin thinks, watching him go.

“I wonder what the movie is,” Vivian says, taking a bite of corn pudding.

“Something very romantic, I’m sure,” Arthur sighs.

“You aren’t having a good time,” Merlin accuses.

“I am!” Arthur denies. “It’s just very…well, Valentine-y here!”

Merlin looks down. “I’m sorry.”

“I know that! There’s nothing to be sorry for. Let’s eat. Ouch!” Arthur scowls at Morgana across the table. “Are the toes of your shoes reinforced with steel?”

Merlin feels awful. He really wishes he’d taken the time to read the fine print; then he could have brought someone more appropriate. But who would that be? There’s no one he can imagine spending an entire week with in such close quarters other than Arthur. He sighs, and then he feels Arthur’s hand on his thigh. Merlin looks over at him, and Arthur’s giving Merlin his puppy dog _I’m sorry, Merlin, please forgive me I’m such an arse_ look. Merlin can’t help but smile at him in return.

The movie definitely is a romance, and Merlin and Arthur are forced to snuggle beneath a blanket while watching it. Only, it really isn’t that bad. Merlin likes putting his head on Arthur’s shoulder and the way it feels when Arthur lays his cheek against the top of Merlin’s head. He’s pretty sure he hears Arthur sniffling during the sad parts, too, the big softie. Merlin frequently catches Morgana giving them looks like they’re the cutest kittens in the litter, and blushes up to his ears every time.

At eleven, the group heads upstairs, having drinks together in the en suite and laughing about stupid things.

“Remember that time Gwaine got his dick stuck in the faucet of my bath?” Morgana asks, her tinkling laugh contagious.

Merlin’s stomach hurts from giggling so much. Arthur sits in the overstuffed chair by the balcony doors, and Merlin lies on the floor, one foot propped on Arthur’s seat cushion. Arthur absently fiddles with Merlin’s bare toes.

“We had to call the plumber to get it out,” Arthur remembers. “Gwaine was so embarrassed, but it served him right. He used to take such long baths, and I don’t know what the pervert was doing fiddling with the faucet like that.”

“Gwaine was your flat mate?” Vivian asks Morgana. “I didn’t know that.”

“Not for long, believe me,” Morgana answers, taking a sip of her wine. “He simply refused to believe I’m really a lesbian. He thought he could change me with his charms and animal magnetism.”

Vivian makes a face. “No amount of animal magnetism could make me want a cock.”

“You’re crazy,” Merlin tells them, more than a little tipsy. “Cocks are the best! I love them.”

Vivian finds this incredibly funny for some reason, and can’t stop laughing. She slides off the couch and onto the floor, holding her sides.

“Good thing you’ve got one, then,” she says between jolts of laughter. “Bet you’d suck it if you could.”

“Of course I would!” Merlin says. “What man wouldn’t?”

“I can get the head in my mouth when I’m fully erect,” Arthur says proudly.

“Ugh! TMI, Arthur!” Morgana squeals, slapping his arm. “Can you imagine if Father ever walked in on you doing that?”

This brings on fresh peals of laughter.

Merlin has more wine, and somewhere along the line passes out on the floor. He is cognizant of Arthur carrying him to bed, his head lolling over the side of Arthur’s arm.

“Carryin’ me over the threshold?” he slurs, eyeing Arthur with one eye open.

Arthur swings Merlin in the air, and Merlin lands with a bounce on the bed.

“You wish,” Arthur says. “Now move over to your side of the bed.”

Merlin grunts, listening to Arthur strip off his clothes. There’s a vague buzzing in his head, and then Arthur’s voice saying, “Merlin! I said to move over!” Merlin feels his jeans being tugged off and then hands shoving him sideways. The bed dips and the light goes out.

“Night, Merlin,” Arthur says. “You are going to be so hung over in the morning.”

“Mmph,” Merlin manages before sinking under again.

000

Merlin stays in bed half the next day nursing his hangover, while Arthur plays board games with the girls in the Sleigh Room. It’s snowing hard outside, and they’ve closed the slopes. When Arthur goes up to check on him, bringing him some soup, Merlin’s sitting up watching television.

“Are you among the living now?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah,” Merlin says. “I shouldn’t drink that much.”

Arthur sits down on the bed, passing Merlin the soup. “I’ll say.”

“Did I act like a fool last night?” Merlin asks.

“No more than usual,” Arthur answers, and ducks the splat of soup Merlin sends his way.

“Watch it! We sleep in this bed.”

“And you snore like a chain saw,” Merlin tells him.

“I do not!” Arthur denies, mopping the soup up with a napkin.

“Do so.”

“No one’s ever said that before!”

“You never have anyone to spend the night,” Merlin points out. “You just have those young boys over to fuck, and then you kick them out.”

“Merlin, they’re all well over eighteen!” Merlin makes him sound like a pedophile, for God’s sake.

“I wouldn’t say _well_ over,” Merlin corrects, eating his soup hungrily.

Arthur harrumphs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the headboard.

“Perhaps it’s time you dated someone your own age,” Merlin tells him after a moment.

“I’m not bringing those men over to _date_ them,” Arthur points out.

“I know that,” Merlin says. “It’s painfully obvious when your headboard is pounding against my bedroom wall.” Merlin’s voice is light, but Arthur senses tension behind it.

“What’s eating you?” Arthur asks.

“Nothing,” Merlin answers. “It just seems…I don’t know. We’re twenty-eight, yeah? Shouldn’t we be settling down a bit?”

An uncomfortable feeling wells up in Arthur’s chest, constricting his lungs. “Is there someone in particular you have in mind?”

“What? No! No.”

“Is Will back in town?”

Merlin’s most serious relationship to date was with a guy named Will. They dated eight months, and Arthur despised him.

“No. Arthur, I don’t have anyone in mind. But why are you wasting your time with twinks?”

“I just want a good lay,” Arthur says, knowing he’s pouting, but he can’t help himself. “Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Merlin puts his soup onto the bedside table. “Sometimes I want that, too, and I go on the pull. Only I don’t pick up children. What’s the attraction?”

Arthur doesn’t want to talk about this. Why is Merlin suddenly being so difficult?

Merlin sighs. “Nevermind. I know the answer anyway.”

Arthur sits up. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that it isn’t an attraction thing, it’s that these younger blokes are less likely to want anything but a screw, and you can boss them around, which is what you like.”

Arthur frowns. “Well, if you knew, why are you drilling me?”

Merlin shakes his head, sitting up so that his back is to Arthur. “I’m just in a weird mood, I guess. I had this dream last night, and it got me thinking.”

Interested, Arthur turns toward Merlin. “What was the dream about?”

“It was about us,” Merlin answers. “It doesn’t matter. It was only a stupid dream.” Merlin stands and stretches before walking over to the closet. “Sorry I’m being so grumpy. The front desk says they’re having movie night again tonight.” He pulls a shirt out of the closet and slips it on.

Arthur stares at him. “Why won’t you tell me about the dream?”

“It was just a dream, Arthur! It just got me thinking about how we’ve been living together for years, spinning our wheels…”

“So you don’t want to live with me anymore.” Arthur stands up. He should have known this was coming.

“No! Arthur, I never said that.”

“It’s fine, Merlin, I understand completely. You should have said something long ago.”

“Arthur!” Merlin comes around the bed to stand before him.

“Of course I’m cramping your style.”

“I don’t have a _style_ ; you of all people should know that!” Merlin plants himself in front of the door.

“Here you want to find Mr. Right and get married, and I’m in the way, bringing home my twinks…”

“Arthur, stop being ridiculous.”

“What I don’t understand is why you haven’t told me this before. Did you think I wouldn’t move out?” Arthur asks, trying to move past Merlin and into the en suite where he can more easily make his escape.

“If I wanted you to move out, I’d tell you to move out!” Merlin almost yells, widening his stance and effectively blocking the doorway.

“Then what exactly is it you are saying, Merlin?” Arthur asks, exasperated.

“Arthur…I…” Merlin makes a growling noise and stamps his foot.

“I don’t know moose-speak, Merlin, you’ll have to come up with something else,” Arthur tells him.

“You insufferable, conceited, over-bearing, long-winded—“

Arthur purses his lips, makes a mock move left, then goes right, barreling past Merlin and into the next room.

Merlin runs after him, jumping onto Arthur’s back much like a possessed monkey.

“Christ, Merlin! Get off me!”

“You’re such a twat, Arthur!”

“I said I’d move out!” Arthur tries to shake Merlin off, but it’s impossible, so he does what he always does when Merlin attaches himself to him like this and begins spinning in circles until Merlin begins to slip and Arthur’s so dizzy he falls over onto the couch.

“I don’t want you to move out, you stupid plonker!” Merlin yells.

Arthur’s beginning to sweat. “You’ve killed me.”

“Good,” Merlin breathes. “Now maybe you’ll shut up.”

“I’ll move out as soon as we get back.”

“The dead don’t talk, Arthur.”

Merlin unwinds himself from Arthur’s back. “Get off my leg, would you?” Arthur moves, and Merlin yanks himself out from under him, falling to the floor where he lies in a heap. “Listen to me. Just for a moment? I dreamed that you and I were a couple.”

Silence. Arthur stares at the far wall. Did Merlin say he dreamed they were a couple? What does that _mean_? And that made Merlin want Arthur to move out?

Slowly, Arthur turns to look down at Merlin. They stare at each other.

Finally Arthur ventures, “Perhaps you dreamed that because of this farce we’re playing here.”

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin answers, breathing finally evening out and the room coming to a stand-still after their tussle.

“And this dream…made you uncomfortable?” Arthur asks after a few more moments of silence.

“Not while I was having the dream,” Merlin answers. “But when I woke up and realized it wasn’t real, I felt this incredible sense of loss. And I thought—what the fuck are we doing with our lives? Are you and I going to live together as friends forever? Because if we are, Arthur, we’ll never move forward with anyone else.”

“And that’s what you want,” Arthur clarifies.

“What? No!”

“I’m confused,” Arthur puts a hand to his head.

“Arthur, it’s like our friends keep telling us. We’re a couple, whether we admit it or not. We’re a couple without the sex. I love you, and you love me. So if we aren’t going to be a real couple, we need to move out of each other’s space and allow ourselves the opportunity to move on with someone else.”

Arthur stares at Merlin. Is he saying what he thinks he’s saying? “Merlin, do you _want_ to be a couple with me?”

For the briefest of moments, Merlin’s eyes flash fear. Of him. Of _them_. God, if Merlin’s afraid to be with him, Arthur doesn’t know what he’ll do. But who the fuck wouldn’t be afraid to be with Arthur? He’s a time bomb waiting to go off. To mess up. Arthur can feel himself closing down, his face shuttering.

Merlin jumps up, grabbing Arthur by the arms and shaking him. “Stop it!”

Arthur’s so shocked, his mouth drops open. “What?”

“Don’t do that—I know you, Arthur Pendragon. Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking right now.” Merlin takes a breath.

“You spit on me,” Arthur wipes his face.

“Sorry.” Merlin sits down beside him. “This is big. We’re best mates and mean a lot to each other. I never want to lose that. I don’t want to _lose you_.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either, Merlin,” Arthur says sincerely.

“Okay, then. We’re on the same page. Look. You asked me in the car…what would happen to you if I met the perfect man and wanted to settle down? And I couldn’t answer you. I couldn’t imagine you leaving me, Arthur. And maybe that’s because you are the perfect man for me.”

Vivian and Morgana enter the room, talking and laughing. They take one look at Arthur and Merlin’s faces, turn around, and go back out, shutting the door behind them.

“I don’t think I’m anybody’s perfect man,” Arthur says sadly.

Merlin shakes his head. “Stop that. Of course you are.” He pulls Arthur up from the couch.

Let’s go to movie night,” Merlin suggests. “Nothing has to be decided right this moment.”

Arthur nods. They freshen up and head downstairs, hand-in-hand, and Arthur relishes the feel of each of Merlin’s fingers against his own. He thinks about the young blokes he’s brought back to the flat in the past, and finds he can’t see their faces in his mind, much less remember their names, if he ever even knew them at all. He thinks of the very few men Merlin’s attempted to have relationships with, along with the various one-offs. Merlin’s right: there’s no way either of them could ever pursue a meaningful relationship with the other living in such close quarters. Frankly, Arthur doesn’t even want a close relationship with anyone other than Merlin.

He tells Merlin this when they’re properly ensconced on a couch watching _The Notebook_ with twenty other couples _._

“I don’t think I want anyone other than you,” Merlin confides, looking up at Arthur from where he’s snuggled under his arm.

Arthur swallows. “I…really wanted someone a bit better for you than I am,” he says. “I mean, I hoped you wouldn’t have to work. That you could concentrate solely on your art.”

Merlin looks at him as if he’s grown two heads. “What?”

“I wanted you to find a man who would support you so you could pursue your painting properly,” Arthur explains. “I can’t really do that as a museum curator.”

Slowly, Merlin sits up, staring, and then suddenly, he's kissing Arthur, lips hard and demanding against Arthur’s mouth.

“Shrimp salad?” Arthur asks when they pull apart, and Merlin blinks.

“What? No, you dolt!” He kisses Arthur again, this time a little softer, tongue roaming inside Arthur’s mouth. Arthur opens his mouth wider, tilting his head, wrapping his arms around Merlin and holding him close. When they pull apart this time, Merlin says, “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Arthur can’t breathe, he’s so full of feeling. He leans in and kisses Merlin again and again, pushing him back into the cushions of the couch.

Someone clears their throat.

“Although we love romance, we encourage guests to take things upstairs when they get this amorous,” a female voice tells them.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Merlin replies, voice hoarse with need. Arthur feels dizzy and doesn’t think he could speak if he had to. He lets Merlin pull him to a standing position and hopes he doesn’t put anyone’s eye out with his erection as they make their way through the couples and out of the room.

In their bedroom once again, facing one another, Arthur says, “Merlin, is this going to be weird?”

Merlin takes a step closer, running his finger down Arthur’s cheek. “Just don’t ask me if I like dirty talk.” He leans in and kisses Arthur softly.

They undress.

Merlin’s surprised that Arthur’s such a giving lover. He’s so different than he seemed to be through five inches of plaster and paint. First of all, Arthur won’t stop kissing Merlin and giving him pleasure long enough for Merlin to even get a good look at Arthur naked. Merlin’s heart’s beating so loud, he feels like the entire hotel must hear it.

Another thing is that Arthur is making _noises_ , lots and lots of noises, and they aren’t commands. They’re little grunts and groans, and needy sighs and moans. They make Merlin so hard, he can’t stand it.

The real surprise comes when Arthur asks Merlin to fuck him. Merlin thinks he’s actually hearing things.

“But…but Arthur,” Merlin’s breathing hard after all the touching and sucking and biting they’ve been doing for the past forty-five minutes. “You never bottom.”

“Not with _them_ ,” Arthur says, mouth leaving Merlin’s nipple with a slick sound and endearing, lust-heavy blue eyes looking up to where Merlin leans against the headboard of the bed. “There’s only one person I want to bottom for, and that’s you.”

Well.

When Merlin enters Arthur, he thinks he’s going to die. His brain short-circuits and he goes blind for a good minute and a half. His heart stops beating and his limbs lose all function. Fortunately, he’s lying flat on his back and Arthur’s doing all the work, his gorgeous body undulating over him like some kind of sexy snake-man fantasy.

When Arthur grows tired, Merlin takes over, bracing Arthur’s hands with his own, and pushing up into him.

“Come for me, Arthur,” Merlin whispers after he’s fucked into Arthur’s _sotightsoveryfuckingtight_ arse for a good long while. “You want to come with me fucking your arse?”

Arthur moans, nodding, hair falling into his sex-blown eyes. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous…Merlin’s about to shoot his load, and he really, really wants Arthur to come first.

“Come on—right into my mouth,” he tells Arthur, speeding up the motion of his hips.

Arthur’s eyes lock with Merlin’s and he lets out a cry, one hand moving to frantically work his dick as Merlin continues to pump into him. With an incredible little jerk that squeezes Merlin's cock, Arthur shoots, spunk landing on Merlin’s face and inside his mouth. Merlin licks his lips, moaning, thrusting one, two, three more times before shuddering with a long moan. Arthur sprinkles kisses all over Merlin’s face, licking the cum off him, and Merlin smiles, laughing, pulling Arthur in for a proper snog, and suddenly, Arthur’s laughing, too. Happy. Relieved.

000

A week later, Arthur and Merlin enter the pub, joining their friends after getting their beer at the bar.

“Can’t wait to hear about the big ski vacation!” Leon says, he and Sophia moving over a couple seats to make room. “Heard you had a regular snow storm.” He eyes Arthur and Merlin's matching sweaters with an amused wink at Gwaine.

“We did get some skiing in,” Arthur tells him.

“Did you have a good time?” Gwen asks, Lance’s arm draped over her shoulder.

Merlin nods. “We had a great time.”

“Did Merlin out-ski you, Arthur?” Gwaine wants to know.

Arthur huffs a laugh. “Hardly, Gwaine. We did relive the moment when you got your dick stuck in the faucet, though. Had a good laugh over that.”

Gwaine colours, hiding his face in his beer. Sophia looks over at him.

“What?”

“Later, Soph,” Leon whispers to her.

When the food comes, Merlin picks Arthur’s jalapenos off, and Arthur gives Merlin the biggest glob of cheese.

Gwaine shakes his head. “Just like an old married couple.”

“Funny you should say that,” Merlin says, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

“What do you mean?” Leon asks. They’ve got everyone’s attention.

“Well, Arthur and I talked about it on our trip, and we now see what you’ve been trying to tell us. As long as we’re bound at the hip like this, we might as well be married.”

Gwaine seems to have forgotten how to close his mouth.

“I don’t think that’s exactly what we’ve been saying,” Lance says slowly, looking at Gwen.

“So,” Arthur continues, reaching over and taking Merlin’s left hand in his left hand and holding them up. “We got married. Morgana and Vivian were our witnesses.” Their matching wedding rings gleam under the light hanging over the table.

“What the fuck?” Leon asks.

“Is this a joke?” Gwen sits up.

Morgana and Vivian hurry over from where they’ve been hiding at the other side of the bar.

“Surprise!” they call, throwing a handful of confetti each over everyone’s heads. Arthur and Merlin lock lips, which seems to go the furthest in convincing the group than anything else. When they don’t come up for air immediately, Morgana explains, “They decided they were better together than apart.”

“I can’t believe it!” Sophia’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“It started because Merlin didn’t realize the resort was couples exclusive…” Vivian takes a seat and begins the story, but Arthur and Merlin aren’t listening.

Hands, complete with new wedding bands bracketing one another’s faces, they’re in their own world, as usual.

_finis_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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